


History Has Its Eyes (and Lips) on You

by Killbothtwins



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), DCU, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Cameos by Team Flash, Episode: s02e11 Turncoat, Gen, Mick is a founding father and I am Proud of him, Team as Family, The Legion of Doom (DCU), Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:22:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9829190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killbothtwins/pseuds/Killbothtwins
Summary: Mick Rory is everyone's favorite founding father. Sara starts an interesting tradition with his statue, and the rest of the team is entirely too delighted.





	

Ray covered his mouth, attempting futilely to smother a laugh. Amaya gripped at Nate's shoulder with too-sharp nails, trying to hold back any reaction and mostly failing. Jax and Stein seemed to be unable to process what they were seeing, staring agape at the sight in front of them.

“That,” Sara said, “Is the best thing I've ever seen.”

They all looked up at the statue, titled _Private Rory_ in proud bronze letters. Mick's face looked down at them, stern yet noble.

 

Mick, the real one, growled at her. He was wearing a baseball cap, in an attempt to be incognito. The hat said _Central City Fire Department,_ so it wasn’t actually a very good attempt, but it was the thought that counted. The crowd eddied around them, mostly uninterested. It was the sixties, so they supposed no one was going to be snapping photos with their iPhone, anyway.

 

“His eyes keep following me, everywhere I go.” Jax said, swaying slightly to the side.

“Private Rory is one of our nation's first and proudest heroes.” Ray read off a plaque, sounding strangled. “George Washington himself once said that Private Rory represents the true American way.”

“Damn right.” Mick said. “I'm a founding father.”

“I thought you were the drunk uncle.” Amaya said.

“He can be both.” Jax said, taking out his phone and snapping a selfie with the statue. Stein shot him a look that conveyed the fact that he was disappointed in his counterpart for using an anachronistic device, but didn't complain when Jax moved to get him in the picture, too.

 

Sara beamed brightly, utterly delighted with the statue, and, it seemed, life in general. She unhooked the fanny pack from around her waist (they'd gone all out on the tourist thing; Jax had a stripe of sunblock across his nose and Stein was wearing a Hawaiian shirt) and handed it to Nate.

“What are you doing?” Mick asked warily.

“What does it look like?” Sara rolled her eyes and hoisted a leg over the safety barrier, climbing up the few steps it took for her to get to the statue.

A few tourists’ attention had been caught, now, but Sara seemed quite determined. She held out a hand once she was level with the statue. “Lipstick?”

Nate dug through the fanny pack and found a tube of lipstick. He tossed it to her, looking curious.

 

She applied it with fervor, and kissed the statue directly on the cheek, just below his left cheekbone, with a smacking noise.

Mick scrunched his nose, looking disgusted. “Why.”

“Good luck.” Sara said. “Duh.”

 

“Kissing Private Rory gives you good luck for a year.” Jax added, thinking. “Plus he protects your home.”

“From fire.” Ray added, beaming.

Mick made a noise that somehow conveyed disgust and anger at the same time.

 

“Ooh, me next.” Nate said, handing the fanny pack off to Ray, who put it on, looking pleased with his fashion sense.

“Why.” Mick asked again.

“I want good luck, duh. Do _you_ want the _Waverider_ burning down?” He looked at Mick's face, and his baseball cap. “Okay, so, wrong person to ask. The rest of us don't.” He climbed up, wiped off Sara's lipstick, and kissed Mick on the cheek.

Sara made her way back down and plopped the lipstick in Ray's pack. She looked inordinately proud. “Me next!” Jax said, and clambered his way up.

 

“Ugh.” Mick said.

 

“Don't be sad, American Way.” Sara said. “At least we're not using tongue.”

 

* * *

 

“Wow.” Amaya said. “There are a _lot_ more people here than last time we visited.” It was the nineties, now, and, true to word, the place was packed.

“Yeah, this is weird, why-” Ray said, then stopped abruptly as a peddler stepped in front of them.

“Lipstick, miss?” The vendor asked. “I'll give you a good deal.”

“Uh, no thanks. I have my own.” Sara said.

 

“Oh, good lord.” Stein said. “Look.” He pointed in the direction of Mick's statue, which was, again, far more crowded than it had been last time.

As they watched, a teenage girl climbed up onto the statue, applied lipstick, and kissed it on the cheek.

“What.” Jax said.

 

“Oh, you don't know?” The vendor asked, leaning on their little cart of lipsticks in all different shades. “It's good luck to kiss Private Rory. Ya get good luck for a year, and he'll protect your home from fire.”

 

“Really.” Mick rumbled.

The vendor squinted at him. “Hey, you look sort of familiar.”

“Ha, he gets that all the time.” Ray said, stepping in front of Mick before any awkward questions could be asked. “Any, any idea where that legend came from?”

“Oh, who knows.” The vendor said. “As long as I can remember. Lots of people like to wear lipstick when they kiss him, but not everyone.”

 

Sara looked immensely pleased with herself. “I'll take a lipstick after all.” She said.

“Me, too.” Amaya said.

“And me.” Jax said. “You got any, that, like, happen to say Mick-- uh, Private Rory's name on them?”

“Sure!” The vendor said. “They're collectible.”

“That could not be more perfect.” Jax said.

“I'm gonna punch you so hard _he_ can feel it.” Mick muttered to Jax, jerking his head at Stein, who looked offended.

 

“Take a picture!” Ray, now holding a lipstick with Mick's name engraved on the base and slathered in it himself, called, leaning in to the statue.

 

“Never mind, you're gonna have to take a number.” Mick said, rolling up his shirtsleeves.

 

* * *

 

“So, what have you guys been doing?” Barry Allen asked Sara and Mick, kicking his feet up on a desk in STAR Labs.

The rest of both teams were there, too, watching Ray and Cisco curse and dodge sparks over some aspect of the ATOM suit or another.

 

“Is that supposed to happen?” Nate asked doubtfully.

“Haha, probably not.” Cisco said. “Duck.”

 

“Good.” Sara told Barry. “A couple changes to the timeline, but nothing major.” The last part may have been said a little pointedly, but Barry pretended not to notice.

“Oh, yeah?” He asked. “Like what?”

Sara grinned devilishly, the customary look whenever she talked about this topic. “You know that statue in DC? Private Rory?”

 

“Yeah-” Barry said, and his eyes widened. “No.”

 

“Yep.” Sara said. “Right, Mick?”

“Unfortunately.” Mick confirmed. He was eating some of the Twizzlers off of Cisco's desk, but he still managed to look threatening.

 

“But-” Barry said. “He protects you from fire!”

“My doing.” Sara said proudly. “And the _Waverider_ isn't burned down yet, is it?”

Barry shuddered. “Iris and I _kissed_ that thing on our fifth grade field trip.”

“Ha.” Sara said.  

 

Barry looked disgusted. “Hey, Cisco!” He called.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Barry had the look of someone who was about to ruin someone’s life, and who was also about to enjoy it. “You know that Kissing Statue in DC?”

“Yeah, why- wait, _ugh!_ ” Cisco said. “No!”

“Yep.” Sara said smugly. “You’ve made out with Mick.”

“I _hate_ time travel.” Cisco complained. “Why can’t you let us have nice things.”

 

“Ugh.” Barry said. “I can't believe you're the Kissing Statue. Practically everyone I know has kissed that thing. _Joe_ has kissed that thing.”

Mick shrugged. “At least I didn't erase anyone's children from existence.”

“That was one time!” Barry said. “And she wasn't erased, she just changed genders.”

“Guess Mick looks pretty good now.” Jax mused. “He creates a beloved tradition. You ruin everything.”

“One time.” Barry sulked.

 

* * *

 

It was the twenty-somethings, now, and they were visiting Private Rory. Again.

 

“Hey, there's a new sign.” Nate said, squinting in the sun to read it. “ _Please do not climb on or deface the statue. Thank you._ ”

“Ha.” Mick said.

“Hey, what gives?” Ray snagged a tour guide. “What's with the sign?”

The guide sighed beleagueredly. “So many people were kissing the statue that it started to cause permanent damage.” She said. Jax unsuccessfully held in a laugh. “The spot where they were kissing started to get worn and shiny.”

 

“Do people still-” Stein asked.

“Oh, yeah, all the time.” The guide said. “Get off the statue!” She yelled, without turning around. A group of teenagers scrambled off where they were kissing Mick, wiping lipstick off their faces.

 

On inspection, there was a clear, brighter spot where the imprint of ten thousand kisses had been.

 

“It's like you--I mean _he's_ blushing.” Raymond observed. “That's adorable.”

“I am,” Sara said. “ _So_ happy.”

 

* * *

 

When Leonard came back, the first place Sara insisted on stopping was the Kissing Statue of Private Rory.

 

The moment Captain Cold, legendarily emotionless, always calm under pressure, and cool, saw the statue, he burst out laughing.

 

He didn't stop for an uncomfortably long time, wheezing slightly. He put his hands on his knees, trying to catch a breath, still laughing.

“Laugh it up.” Mick grumbled, dodging a tourist who was trying to climb up onto the statue.

“I… can't… breathe.” Leonard gasped. “It's the best thing I've ever seen in my life.” Apparently trying to regain his composure, he looked back at the statue, only to see a little old lady kiss it on the cheek, looking pleased with herself. He started laughing again.

“I told you.” Sara said, looking smug. “It's good luck.”

 

Leonard only laughed harder. “I think I'm gonna pass out.”

“Good.” Mick said dispassionately. “I hope you die.”

Leonard didn't stop.

 

“This is gonna go on for a while, isn't it?” Amaya asked Sara.

 

“I hope so.” Sara said, looking gleeful. “Once he stops, I'm gonna tell him about the commemorative lipsticks.”

 

* * *

 

It was sometime in the three thousands, probably. The last mission had been hard, blood-filled, and smelly. Past historical periods were not very concerned with hygiene, or teeth brushing. Or whether or not their bows and arrows were pointed at you or an enemy soldier.

“We need good luck.” Sara explained as they stood in front of the Kissing Statue. “Lipstick me.” A tired-looking Ray slapped it into her hand. She put it on, and started the trek up the statue.

 

There weren't as many tourists around, today, probably due to the rain. There were a few dedicated ones, though, snapping pictures from under decorative umbrellas.

 

“Is that a _gift shop?_ ” Leonard asked suddenly, delighted.

Sara, now finished kissing Mick, hurried back down, mindless of slipperiness, as Stein went to take his turn. Every time they visited, everyone kissed him at least once, except for Mick, who kept threatening to set them all on fire. “A _gift shop?_ ” She asked. “We're going inside.”

“I didn't get my kiss yet.” Snart complained. “It's bad luck.”

“We’ll go after.” Sara said. “ _Gift shop.”_

“Fine.” Leonard said. “If the _Waverider_ catches on fire, don't blame me.”

“Blame me.” Mick said, watching Jax kiss statue-him on the cheek. “I'm going to kill all of you.”

 

“Yeah, right, American Way.” Jax said. “Gift shop!”

 

They made their way inside. The future, it seemed, had the same penchant for horribly tacky souvenirs as the past. There were a couple floating holograms, and unrecognizable electronics, but otherwise it was eerily familiar. There were bobbleheads of the Lincoln Memorial and postcards of the Washington Monument, but there were also Kissing Statue souvenirs.

Sara shook the water out of her hair out like a dog, looking like someone had let her loose in a surplus weapons warehouse (Again. Christmas of 2472 was probably a bad idea).

“Yes.” Leonard said. “I've never been happier.”

“We met Al Capone last week.” Jax reminded him.

“I know what I said.”

 

“Ugh.” Mick said.

 

“There's bumper stickers.” Ray said. “It says _I kissed Private Rory._ ”

“Will it peel off in the timestream?” Amaya asked sensibly.

“You are _not_ putting some ugly bumper stickers on _my_ ship like it's a Honda Civic.” Jax said.

 

“Um, can I help you?” The shopkeeper asked, hovering nervously around the delighted group.

 

“Yes.” Leonard said. “I'd like to buy all of these postcards of Beyonce kissing Private Rory. Literally all of them. If you have more in the back I'll take them too.” The shopkeeper nodded, bemused, and disappeared into the back.

“How about a fridge magnet?” Nate negotiated. “We'll put it in the kitchen.”

“Acceptable.” Jax said. Nate, Amaya, and Ray high-fived and found one that was a drawing of Mick covered in lipstick marks. They squabbled for a moment on whether to get that one or the one where Mick seemed to be passionately making out with the Statue of Liberty.

 

“There's a _keychain._ ” Sara said. “I'm buying this.”

“You don't even have keys.” Mick complained as Snart staggered out of the back with a shoebox full of postcards. “We live on a spaceship.”

“It's going on my belt loop.” She said. “Or my bra strap. Close to my heart.”

 

Snart shoved a postcard under Mick's nose. “ _Obama_ kissed you.” He said gleefully.

 

* * *

 

Malcolm Merlyn squinted at Mick. He was holding a cartoonishly villainous gun up at the Legends, but, really, they were used to it by now.

 

“Do I know you?” He asked, gesturing with the gun.

“No.” Mick said.

“Just kill them.” Dahrk grumbled from the corner, cradling his shoulder from where Sara had smashed him into the wall.

“No, I know him.” Merlyn said. “You weren’t involved in the plot to level the Glades, were you?”

“Nah, man.” Mick said. “That was messed up.”

“Yeah, _kids_ died, dude. Not cool.” Leonard added. “Even I’m not that evil. And I’m evil.”

 

Merlyn shrugged, but kept staring at Mick. “I _know_ you.”

 

“Wait.” Jax said slowly, his hands still in the air in an attempt to placate the maniac with the gun. “You don’t know Mick from the _Kissing Statue,_ do you?”

Merlyn’s eyes widened, and the gun wavered for a moment. “ _You’re-_ ”

“Yes.” Mick sighed, looking resigned.

 

“I took my kid there when he was twelve.” Malcolm said, almost thoughtfully.

  
“Yeah, I was there.” Sara said, uncovering memories that were hers and weren’t at the same time. “Tommy and Ollie got into a fight over who got to kiss him first. While they were arguing, Laurel and I snuck up and kissed him anyway.”

“ _Kill_ them!” Dahrk called, frustrated. Merlyn raised up the gun again, but by then it was too late; the Legends were already in action.

 

Stein and Jax rushed towards each other and fused, flying into the air with a burst of flame, while Sara went for Merlyn, knocking the gun out of his hand and going in for a kick, which he caught. Leonard dove for his and Mick’s guns on the table, pointing them at Dahrk, who rolled his eyes.

“We’ve gotta go!” Amaya called, now wearing her totem and bedecked in a very feminine gorilla spirit. “They’ve set this warehouse to blow!”

“Of _course_ they did.” Leonard said, watching Sara break apart from her spar with Merlyn. They were both panting, and a little banged up, but the fact that they were very nearly evenly matched always meant it was hard to determine a clear winner.

 

From behind, Firestorm shot a stream of fire that caught Merlyn in the back and sent him sprawling to the ground, dazed.

“Get out, everyone!” Sara called to the team, then kicked at Merlyn with a boot, ignoring the increasingly more urgent calls to go. “We’ll let you go this time.” She said, before baring her teeth turning after the rest of the Legends.

Mick, flanked by Leonard, leaned down to Malcolm with a grin. “For bad luck.” He said, and kissed him on the cheek, shooting the villains a sly grin before turning with Snart and running for the door.

 

“Good job, idiot.” Dahrk complained as the two limped out the back of the warehouse, half supporting each other and pretending they weren’t.

“Not gonna lie, that kiss wasn’t half bad.” Merlyn said thoughtfully as the warehouse exploded behind them.

 

* * *

 

“Happy birthday, Mick.” Leonard said, putting his hands on his hips and gesturing to the area behind him. It was the three-thousand-twenty whatevers, and the tourists were still going strong, taking pictures and fighting over who got to go next.

“Not sure why this is a present.” Mick rumbled, eyeing Private Rory as if he was going to come to life and punch them. Given their weird lives, Leonard was going to give Mick that one; he honestly would not be surprised if that happened.

“This is a present because that’s not the original statue.”

“What?” Mick eyed it again.

“Okay, well, it’s _one_ of the original statues. The kid and I took the Jumpship and had the original guy make two.” Snart said, looking pleased with himself.

“Why.”

 

Leonard grinned. “Come with me and you’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

The Legends stood in a field in an unspecified era in an unspecified place, gazing up at the majestic face of Private Mick Rory, one of the nation’s first and proudest heroes, the embodiment of American ideals.

“He’s beautiful.” Sara said, wiping away a pretend tear. Jax had gone the extra mile and dabbed an old fashioned handkerchief at his eyes, intermittently pausing to hand it to Amaya. Mick seemed to be cautiously optimistic, now, seemingly getting the idea of what his present was.

“A final kiss for a hero.” Snart said solemnly, stepping up to kiss statue-Mick on the cheek. The others followed suit, each appropriately serious.

 

They stood in a line in front of the statue, now covered in lipstick marks but missing the standard wear and tear from the kisses of tourists. Snart fired off a crisp, somber salute, followed by the rest of the Legends.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Rory.” Stein said, handing Mick his heatgun, a box of matches, and a can of gasoline.

Mick took them with a grin. “Bye, Private Rory.” He said, then, to the delight of his team, stepped up and gave the statue a peck on the cheek before dousing it in gasoline, from head to toe. Statue-Mick looked grimly approving, yet still nobly heroic.

 

The Kissing Statue (well, one of them) went up into flames in a glorious show of light that left Mick satisfied and smelling more like smoke than usual for a week.

 

However, that was most definitely _not_ the last time the Legends visited and subsequently kissed the other one.

 

It _was_ good luck, after all.


End file.
